


Angel Hair

by viceversa



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Scully's working in the Met, shootout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-20 00:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: “Get down!” Dana yelled, hands supporting her weapon in front of her. “Get out, now!”Stella and Dana try to negotiate with a gunmen, and it doesn't go the easy way.(Now edited since I wrote it originally at 1am)





	1. Chapter 1

“Get down!” Dana yelled, hands supporting her weapon in front of her. “Get out, now!”

The civilians scattered, leaving their half-eaten meals and shopping bags behind, and the cafe emptied quickly. She hadn’t been in a situation like this in a long, long time. England had less guns (not no guns - that’s just wishful thinking), and she hadn’t been back in the field that long.

The Met had hired her months ago, but only as a consultant. She wasn’t a full detective. Her experiences in the abnormal, however, gave her an advantage and she’d assisted on a dozen cases thus far.

And then this one.

Dana made eye contact with her partner on the case, her partner in another sense of the word. Stella Gibson. It was luck, really, that they’d been assigned on this together. The strange cult-like crimes in Dana’s expertise; the nature of the victims - all women and minorities - in Stella’s wheelhouse.

Stella nodded back and began negotiating, and Dana saw out of the corner of her eye the backup they requested. They were lucky to be armed at all.

“Warren? I’m Stella, and that’s Dana” she said to the nervous looking man behind the counter, a large name tag affixed to his uniform. He’d been arranging croissants when they’d arrived, but as soon as Stella flashed her badge he’d pulled out the weapon  

Dana noticed that the gun in his hands a semi-automatic, and it was shaking. Her and Stella were ten, maybe twelve feet away. Close range.

“Are you alone in the shop today?” Stella’s words were comforting but in-charge, nothing to startle or provoke the man in front of them.

They’d tracked the crime ring to this storefront, a simple cafe and bakery serving as a front for money laundering and kidnapping with some sort of quasi-religious leadership. Dana suspected brainwashing, making younger women and minorities who had fallen in with the wrong crowd do their bidding 

The cashier, Warren, shook his head. “Get out!” His voice broke, and Dana reduced her estimate to his age. He could be a teenager. “They said no one goes back there - no one.” She wondered what his life was like, how he’d ended up here  

“Warren,” Stella took a slow step forward as she spoke, “why don’t you put down that gun, and we can all talk outside?”

“They said I had to shoot! Shoot anyone that comes in with badges!”

“Warren—“

“Stop! Wait!” Warren screamed, shaking and visibly shaken and confused, too shocked to make a decision  

He was just a scared kid. Sometimes, those were the most dangerous. The most tragic.

Dana looked back and forth between Stella and the suspect with nervous anticipation. Stella was doing her job of calming him down, but he was a hair trigger.

The kid behind the register was about to speak again - Dana could swear the gun was being lowered - when suddenly the door behind the counter flew open and the gunfire started.

Three men, all with similar weapons to Warren. It was a cacophony of gunfire and quick thinking, Warren following the other men in shooting.

Dana saw Stella duck down for cover behind a large planter and heard her curse as she did the same. They were across from each other, opposite sides of the cafe. Their backup was shouting orders and tactics, still outside the restaurant but starting to return fire when able.

Dana took advantage of the momentary silence and darted up, taking out the man on the far right in one clean shot. The gunfire sputtered again, the men yelling. She heard tile, lights, chairs, and tables splinter in the crossfire. Dana glanced at the team behind her, all focused on not getting shot and taking out the three remaining shooters.

”Surrender! You’re out numbered! Surrender now and no one else gets hurt!” Stella’s shouts went unheeded and the gunfire started going wild, aiming toward the officers on the street and potentially more civilians  

Dana checked in visually with Stella - she looked fine, but her hiding spot was more in front of the door and was taking heavy fire. It wasn’t safe for her to shoot or to run. Dana heard the men shouting obscenities at her, all falling in line with the profile of serious abusers of women.

Stella’s eyes showed no fear, only concern, in the two seconds they made eye contact. A slight nod, of reassurance, love, support, was all they had time for.

Dana took her advantage and ducked up again, aiming for anyone shooting, but missed for three rounds. The coffee mugs behind the shooters shattered, drawing their attention to Dana’s position and away from Stella. Good, she thought.

Chunks of terra cotta exploded around her, but the planter was full of dirt and holding for the moment. Stella popped up and down, shooting short bursts, now that they were focused on Dana and for a moment they had the shooters confused, split between them and the backup outside the shop shooting in.

Dana checked her gun, took a breath, and began another assault. Stella had gotten one, and Dana hit another in the forehead. It was only Warren left, paused in shooting. Dana and Stella both stood, giving the closed-fist sign to the back up to cease fire.

“Warren, it’s over now, put down the gun!” Stella commanded. Warren trembled. Dana saw that he had a shot straight through his shoulder, likely not too serious but bleeding a lot. He probably couldn’t feel it through the adrenaline and fear, poor kid.

“Warren,” Dana spoke. The kid swung to face her, the gun level now with her chest, fifteen feet away. She felt a moment of relief he wasn’t trained on Stella any longer. “Warren, put down the gun. They can’t hurt you anymore.” The boy was obviously in shock, from his situation and from what had just happened.

Dana saw Stella move even closer, quickly now that Warren seemed to be listening to Dana. “Stella is going to take the gun, and you’re going to be okay, alright? You didn’t hurt anybody.”

Warren nodded weakly, visibly trembling, the adrenaline leaving him quickly. Stella took his gun and Dana lowered her own and holstered it, signaling the cops behind her to come in and escort Warren to the hospital.

Passing her under fluorescent light, Warren looked no more than 16, pale and scared to death. She gave the officers instructions for accompanying him in the ambulance and let them through. Her heart broke for him, but only for a second, then she walked over to Stella who was checking the other three males behind the counter.

“Stella?”

“I’m fine.” Stella stepped back toward Dana. “They’re dead.”

“You’re hurt!” Dana reached up and caught her head, examining a cut along her hairline, blood running down through her hair.

“I’m fine, just a scratch.” Stella took a breath as she survey the cafe turned crime scene as a whole. “Some glass exploded near me. Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Dana looked around, her eyes flicking back and forth across the crime scene, her own adrenaline kicking her emotions and reflexes out of wack.

She noticed for the first time how cold it was in the store, like they were standing in a fridge. Her right leg was cramping, probably from squatting and standing behind the plant for so long. She was getting too old for shootouts.

“Is everyone else alright?” Dana shouted toward the team. The whole thing had only lasted a few minutes, maybe four or five, but Scully knew the type of damage four gunmen could do.

Nods and grunts assured her that the team was safe, that everyone was safe, and Dana took another breath, satisfied that she wouldn’t have to play doctor today. The aftermath of a scene like this always felt overwhelming, surreal. That they weren't hurt? That they were even alive?

They were lucky.

Officers confirmed that the back was empty, but Dana knew there was plenty of evidence back there. This wasn’t their headquarters, but it would lead them further up the chain. 

Stella walked out, saying something about grabbing equipment or a camera, and Dana turned to follow but her leg cramped again, this time more painfully. She was stuck inside, unable to move, for a second  

“Damn,” she hissed under her breath. Maybe she should take up yoga like Stella. It would certainly be fun to do a double session in the mornings, to participate instead of just watching. Although the watching was quite enjoyable itself. 

She had a smile on her face as she bent forward to rub out the cramp, but it stuttered as she felt wet fabric on her thigh. Did a drink spill on her? She looked down at her hand and saw red.

Bright red.

It had blended in with her black slacks.

It was on the floor too, just by her foot, and Dana was confused. Was it juice? From a shattered cup? Blinking, she followed the short trail of red - there was so much, why didn’t she notice it before? - back to her hiding spot.

But there weren’t any tables there, and she didn’t smell juice.

Wasn’t that odd? That she couldn’t smell juice, and that all she could smell was blood?

“Dana?”

Stella’s gasp of her name had her turning back, her hand still comically held in front of her, coated in red red red.

“Yeah, love?” Dana felt a little dizzy, like she needed to sit down and have some water. Did she say ‘love’ out loud? That was a little unprofessional of her.

Why was is so cold in here? 

Stella’s face looked stricken, she was frozen just inside holding the camera and bag of evidence numbers. 

“Dana - is that?”

Dana followed her gaze to her hand, not realizing it was still hovering in front of her. She blinked and her brain clicked forward one thought. “I think I was shot.”

“Dana!”

The last thing Dana saw before she blacked out was Stella’s hair. It flew around her head, making her look angelic, as she ran from the front of the store toward her.

It was beautiful, just like her, despite the blood staining a blonde curl near her forehead. She’d have to get a stitch for it, probably. It likely wouldn’t scar.

 _Ow_ , she thought, _my leg hurts_  

And Stella, her own personal angel, swooping down to catch her.

Beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

The night was a blur. Stella had expended so much emotional and mental energy in the shootout she was left shaking from adrenaline. She had been containing it, storing her physical fallout for later while they processed the scene. It was her usual way of dealing with these traumatic events: don’t think now, don’t feel now - wait until it’s safe to show emotion, to process later. That meant home. For the past several months, that also meant Dana.

God, Dana.

When she came back in to the cafe with the camera, she thought she was seeing things. Dana was standing, just where Stella left her, hunched slightly as if in pain or confused. She had heard her muttering something about a cramp in her leg and thought nothing of it - nothing over the rush of her own emotion and adrenaline. She had a job to get done, after all.

But Dana had blood on her hand.

_“Dana?”_ she remembered asking, struck still like an idiot.

Dana had blood on her hand, on her leg. Dana had left a trail of blood from her hiding spot, to the counter, and back.

_Dana_ _had been bleeding and Stella hadn’t seen it._

When she made eye contact, Stella could feel that she wasn’t focusing.

_“I think I’ve been shot.”_

Stella felt her heart drop through her stomach, and she had to run to catch Dana as she passed out. She couldn’t help but feel overly sensitive at the blood around them. At her blood. It seeped into her pants at the knees, through her fingers as she applied pressure on Dana’s limp leg, slicking her skin as she screamed for help.

Stella never screams. Not when nightmares wake her violently, not when hurting or in pain herself. She deals with pain quietly, reservedly lest someone were to notice too much of her. She keeps herself hidden for a reason. But this was too much.

This was Dana, her Dana, bleeding out at a crime scene, hurting, shot, and she didn’t even see it.

Stella forced her eyes open, adjusting poorly to the too-bright fluorescents in the waiting room. She’d been there for hours, waiting, waiting. She kept going back to the scene in her head, trying to figure out when Dana had been shot, why she didn’t notice. But as she replayed it, Dana’s face, realizing that she had been hurt, was always at the forefront of her recollection. The startled look in her eyes, confusion and pain mixed, the light behind them going out as she collapsed… it would stay with her for a long, long time.

“Stella Gibson?”

Stella stood too quickly and was dizzy from it, but hid it as the doctor approached her. As macabre the process had been, Dana’s idea of declaring each other as the others emergency contact and next of kin was the right decision. She would have gone insane if shut out from her condition.

The nurse introduced herself as Stephanie and had Stella follow her to a private room where the doctor was waiting.

“I’ll give it to you straight, Agent Gibson. Dana lost a lot of blood. Her femoral was torn slightly by the path of the bullet, and even with the quick response of the ambulance team in sealing the bleeders along with the internal swelling working to stem the blood flow, we were not sure if we could save the leg and transfuse the amount necessary to keep her alive. But we did.”

Stella wanted to scream again, to smile or make a noise or even acknowledge the doctor speaking with her. But her physical body was in shock again, was frozen in defense of the painful bullets coming from the man in front of her.

Inside, she was working desperately to hang on his every word, to get all the information she could. Information was power, was the ability to know what to do next. She didn’t know what to do yet.

“We had to open the wound further, several centimeters in either direction, in order to get a good visual on the damage and dig out the bullet. We also found shards of what looked like pottery in and around the initial bullet wound.”

Dana’s leg had been shot, ripped through with hot metal, and then sliced and cut and stitched. Her beautiful leg, the smooth skin of her thigh, forever changed.

“The femur was not affected, nor the pelvis, but we did observe some expected muscle damage. At this point we have no reason to expect anything other than a full recovery, although she won’t be walking any time soon.”

The silence went on a beat too long and Stella snapped back into awareness. “Thank you, doctor. Where is she?”

The doctor nodded to the nurse who had guided her here and Stella stood, following the woman through several doors and hallways that even her usually astute mind couldn’t keep track of. She was about to open the door, needing to be near, needing nothing more, when the nurse put a warm hand on her shoulder.

“She’s still sleeping from the anesthetic and likely won’t wake up for a few hours. But you should talk to her. She might hear you.”

With a nod, Stella was left in front of the room alone. 1202. Post-op. Dana.

She entered the room and hated everything immediately. It was too bright and too dull of a place for Dana. The sheets looked askew, Dana looked much too still. She was too still, unnaturally unconscious, hooked up to wires and tubes, her right leg propped awkwardly on pillows and supports.

Stella sat without thinking, sought Dana’s hand out of instinct, glad it was free of wires and needles. The contact was surprisingly warm, not at all the cold absence of her life she expected. Small comforts.

“I’m here, love. You’re going to be fine.” Stella huffed out a laugh, half a smile not reaching her eyes. “I know that word - we don’t use it. You going to be okay, though. And I’m right here.”  
Dana would be okay. She would heal, she would continue to live and work and walk and love. She just needed time to heal.

Unbidden, tears streaked down Stella’s cheeks. A release of emotion, something that had been bottled and buildingpressure since she saw Dana’s hand, bloody, her face in shock. She looked down, tearing her eyes from Dana’s sleeping face, to study her hand. A nurse or someone hand cleaned away the blood but Stella could see small flakes of it around her nails. 

What Dana must have thought in that moment - she couldn’t begin to imagine. The way she had looked, had sounded, it wasn’t fright. Shock and adrenaline made her strong, her body trained to be alert in these circumstances. 

Stella herself never spent much time in the hospital. She’d broken her arm as a girl, but that was nothing in comparison. Injuries sustained on the job rarely needed more than a check up, and when they did it was a night of observation and aches for a few weeks. No surgeries, no close calls. Nothing like what Dana had been through. 

She’d seen all of Dana’s scars, of course. Even knew the story behind them all. The shot to her abdomen, the gnarled spot where chemotherapy had entered her bloodstream, the scars across her body accumulated in a life of danger and pain. Stella had her own scars, of course, but they weren’t inflicted trying to stop evil, to fight for life. Dana was the strongest person, the best woman, she had the luck to love.

“I love you,” she said out loud, suddenly, with a quiet intent. This was for Dana’s ears only. “I haven’t said that in a few days. But I do. I love you.”

Stella held Dana’s hand in hers, occasionally speaking, reassuring Dana when she moved in her sleep.

Later, Dana would wake and see her angel by her bed, feel the morphine-dulled pain in her leg, hear the words Stella had been repeating all night, and tell them back to her in a sleep-rusted voice.


End file.
